Words Do Hurt
by JustMeMarissa
Summary: Rose is a very strange, but special girl. And ofcourse, like most teenage girls, totally in love with a boy. What happens if he finds out about her life and her feelings? Can he handle it? And better yet, can she handle it? Not the usual settings. One Shot.


And with his words I died.

A tragic end they will say. That a girl like that has to die so early. But not one will know the story that caused that tragic end. Except one person, the one who's to blame and to thank. Because that's the one that showed me the color the world could have, but it's also the one who took the color away from me.

I will tell my story, not because I feel sorry for myself. But just so I have told it. So here it is, but let me tell you this. It is not a nice one.

It all starts the day I was born. Everything went well, until I was born and my mother died. How ironic. Where one life ends, the other starts. I was totally normal. Just a small baby girl.  
Only the next day the first sign came. No one knows why, because it should be impossible, but that day, the day after I was born, my eyes turned violet…

My dad was destroyed with the loss of my mother, that's at least what they told me. Because I have never knew him. The reason for that happened when I was just one year old. On my first birthday I killed my father. Of course, at the time I didn't know and the police still think it was a gas leak. Which is a very logical, I guess, because our house blew up.

The only reason I know it was me, it because I later knew what I was. And what was that you might ask? I think most people would describe me as a freak. The one thing they never knew is that they hurt me with that. Now you will think: of course, people who call you names are never nice. But the fact is not that cursing and calling me names is hurting me mentally, they are also hurting me physically. Because every time I get picked on, called names or cursed at, I get injured. Bruises are the lightest. I also get broken bones, twisted ankles, cuts and every injury you can imagine.

Because that the problem with me, I am a freak.

The first time I was hurt, it was at pre-school. I was on my own, playing with a few dolls, when another girl came to me and asked if she could play with me. When I looked up she screamed. She screamed because she saw my eyes, my violet eyes. Then she called me a freak. The moment she said that word, my arm split as a huge cut ran from my elbow to my wrist. The "nanny", as we called her, thought it was from a Barbie car that I was playing with. She cleaned me up she had put a bandage around my arm. Simple as that. No one else cared.

After that no one talked to me again and I didn't mind. I liked being on my own. It was good. Although my world was in black and white at the time it was fine by me. The reason I say that "my world was in black and white" is because it was. Because of my eyes I never knew color, I was colorblind. But I didn't mind. I never had seen color so I didn't miss it.  
And so my life went on. From pre-school to middle school to high school.

Then the first day of my end arrived. It was in my senior year. People still ignored me, except a few who by time called me names and stuff, which caused me to take care of another cut or bruise. Because it went never that bad that I actually had a broken leg or something. The first time that happened, was that day I was just talking about. The day he came to our school.

It was in the middle of a semester when he transferred with his family. When he stepped into the classroom you could hear all the girls sigh, including me. I may be an outsider, I do have taste. His dark curled hair, what later became clear, his nice muscles, but that intrigued me the most of all were his eyes. The thing I could have predicted came true. He was a jerk. But not just anyone, one that like to really put people down and when they're down, kick them until they beg him to stop. He was a first class jerk.

And of course I became, after his first day in school, his favorite victim. Never had I had this much injuries. At night I would feel so much pain I thought I would die. But I didn't, I never did. And so my life became a hell. The one thing that wasn't right was me.  
Because for some reason I reacted to his presence. Every day I could see more color. But the only thing I saw in color was him. I knew it had to be color, because it wasn't something I had seen before. Around him was a kind of glow. I think some people would like to refer it as an "aura". I just saw color. And I thought it was the most beautiful thing ever. That was the reason I kept being in school, I kept being alive, but most of all, I kept being around him. Although he hurt me so much with his words, I stuck to him like a tattoo.

Then the day came that it all came to an end. It was graduating day. Where I wanted to go, I don't know. I think I wanted to know what I did to make my father die. So I went to the police office and asked for someone who had worked on the case. They said I was very lucky, because an officer called had just transferred back and he could help me. So I got the phone number, I called him and the next day I was on his porch waiting for someone to open the door. One second I stare at a flower, the next thing I see is color.

Yep, you´ve guessed right. It was him, my worst nightmare and my biggest dream. After some rude talk his father came, the police officer, and HE went away. I thought he had gone to his room or something.

The next three hours I talked to his father. The strange thing is that he didn´t back up when he looked into my eyes. It was a nice man and he was the first I have talked to for three hours straight. The most conversations I had lasted about 3 minutes. He explained what he found when he arrived at our house: a lot of splintered wood; my dad lying under one of the pieces of the roof. But, he told me, what had most surprised him was me. Apparently I just sat in front of the house, looking like I was very tired. But I didn't cried. I just looked straight forward with violet eyes.

The whole conversation was great but I still didn't get an answer. But I thanked the man and started to walk home. After a minute or two I heard footsteps so I turned around. There he was. My guy, well not mine, but you get the point. He started talking about me, my dad, the house, everything. Suddenly I got angry. Not just angry, but really angry. I felt I could break anything it almost tear me apart. I felt like….I was going to explode.

You know what…I did. I explode. There in the middle of the street, I became surrounded with a bright, very bright violet light. Then it turned white, and I felt like my heart had been erupting. For the second time in my life I exploded. I know that's the reason my dad is dead. It's because all the images were burned to my eyes at that moment. The images of 16 years ago, when I was just one year old.

The whole time my guy was standing right beside me. A normal person would run or, when they stand next to an explosion, die. He didn't. He just kept standing there. After the explosion I became whole again. And he still lived. I collapsed into the street and he kneeled down beside me.

For hours I lay there and for hours he talked to me. And I talked to him. Not mean, like he usually does, but a normal conversation. He asked about my life and I talked. He also told me everything about his life. And everything I could see was color. For what I knew, I loved him. It might sound crazy but I just did. I loved that guy with whole my heart. My exploding heart in my exploding body.

But then he left. He just left me there and never returned. So I got up and dragged myself to the orphanage. That was the last time I ever went there. Now that I knew what kind of freak I was, I wanted to go somewhere where no one would be. First I went to his house, I don't know why. But when I got there I saw him with another girl. I guess she was going to be a supermodel. My heart shattered, not literally this time. For the first time in my life I cried. I cried as hard as I could. Then I got up. I walked to his house, rang the bell and asked him to walk just a little with me. He came. But one we were at the park he began to talk. And it was not nice. He called me things no one ever called me; he stamped me into ground like it was nothing. And I could feel my arms get cut, my leg break and my body getting covered with bruises. When he was done I collapsed. One more time I looked him in the eyes, his colorful eyes. I told him I loved him.

The only things he said were: "I could never love a freak like you. You're not worth loving."  
And with those words I could feel my body give up, I could feel my brain shut down and I could feel my heart break for good.

So with his words I died.

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_Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or anything related. __Only the storyline._


End file.
